Desperation
by FishyPrincess
Summary: When you commit suicide, you don't know who you're hurting. [COMPLETE]
1. Alone

**A/N: This is something to cure my writer's block. I know I'm supposed to update Bang Bang, and I'm sorry for not doing so. I promise I will-eventually. **

**This is not a one-shot and will be continued, considering how short this chapter is. Enjoy the following!**

_Alone.___

You can never comprehend the meaning of that word by just hearing it in a sentence. No matter how many times you hear it, no matter how many times you use it, you will not know what it really is. You would have to actually _be_ alone to understand. 

To be alone brings loneliness. With loneliness brings depression. Depression turns into misery, misery brings despair, and so forth.

Words cannot describe how it feels to be alone, lonely, depressed, and miserable. They only give you a sample, like a crumb of the whole thing. It's worse than hunger, nausea, and all other kinds of suffering combined. 

How would I know? I _am_ alone. 

I'm not one for whining. I take all the crap life gives me and only complain and grumble in my head. That's pretty good for a girl my age and what I've been through. No one sees me like that, though. All they see is a teenage girl with no life, no friends, and no sense of style. I don't give a flip. I don't care about people much. All they are is group of hypocritical, blunt, self-centered idiots. I hate them, and wouldn't care if they all got hit by a semi. (I sometimes _wish _that would happen)

I have a right to complain; I do. I have a right to scream and yell all I want. No one will hear me. No matter how hard I try, whatever I do won't affect anyone. No one cares. No one _wants _to care. I don't even care.

I walk around the house alone most of the time. No one's there. Few times does Dad come home to sleep in his own house: my Hell.  I never see him when he does; I'm usually in my room with my door closed and locked with hard rock music roaring loud through the cracks of the door. I don't see how he gets any sleep when I do that. I wish he wouldn't. 

I have learned to not like my dad. I don't need to anyway. He doesn't care about me, so I don't care about him. I used to always enjoy the five minutes each month when he spent time with us. I wouldn't say much. Dib would say something every thirty seconds or so, just to spark a conversation. He obviously felt awkward. Dib knew Dad never had and never would approve of his paranormal interests so there wasn't much to discuss. 

Paranormal investigation was Dib's life. He was devoted to finding the unsolved mysteries of the world. He'd obsess over aliens, Bigfoot, ghosts, vampires and such, then talk about the like every day at an unbearable fast pace. He'd prove things he discovered all the time. I was the only one who believed him, but I never showed any evidence that I did. Now I regret it. 

I regret a lot of things now. And I hate it. I hate it almost as much as the world around me. My life has almost always revolved around hate, and I admit it: I like it. 

Why do I hate the world?

The answer is simple. If only people would notice this flaw in themselves and change it, then the world would be a much better place, and I'd probably not have as much pessimism and hate as I do now. 

Everyone is too dang self-centered.

People focus on what THEY want, what THEY need, what THEY'D like to do, and other things concerning THEM.

If people actually took the time to pay attention to the world around them, instead of themselves, then more things would be accomplished. More people wouldn't feel so alone, because someone actually cared about them.

Sadly, life is the opposite. Life is self-centered. 

Life doesn't care about you and I. Life doesn't care if you're alone, lonely, depressed, and miserable.

Life just stays watching you suffer, watching you cry in despair. It enjoys all of your suffering. It taunts you with every bad thing it can think of. 

I hate life back.

I continue to go through the hell called life, proving that I won't let it smirk at my destruction…

…just as life conquered the only two people I actually cared about.

The first victim decided the next one's fate. It declared my internal suffering as well.  I have a permanent scar on my soul from the first's passing. I wince every time it comes to mind. It haunts my mind like one of those ghosts Dib used to rant about. 

Though that incident happened when I was very young, I can still remember it in perfect detail. I wish I didn't. I wish it didn't happen at all… But I can't change the past, so, fortunately for me, I have to deal with it.

Easier said than done.


	2. How It All Started

_A/N: This story is still not completed. So you're informed, I'm planning on two more after this one. Oh, yeah, I was restricted from the computer for a month, yet I blame my beta-reader for taking so long to update. grins  
  
_

_Darqz__: Yes, we are…laughs maniacally_

I never really knew my mom. I had only a few years to spend with her; unfortunately, those years were the ones when I was just discovering the world and finished learning a supposedly incredible "talent" called speech.

I do remember that she had a dark shade of purple hair and brown eyes. She was a pale and thin woman who did not have much self esteem. Her low self esteem turned to none at all, thus deciding her fate. She was very timid and sensitive. Dib told me she wasn't very comfortable with herself. We never knew her past, but I'm pretty sure her Mom's parents weren't supportive of her character. 

When she was alive, she felt as if she wasn't good enough for Dad, Dib, and I. Dad never had any time to spend with his family, considering he was at the start of his "life changing" career.

I don't see how she couldn't feel "good enough" for me and Dib. Dib loved talking to Mom. He would rant on and on about his interests in the mysteries of the world. He would tell her about ghosts, Bigfoot, aliens, and other supernatural creatures that he couldn't help but believe in. Mom never _ever _ridiculed him or tried to redirect his mind to "real science" like Dad did. She accepted him for who he was, even though he was quite odd at the time (and was for the rest of his short life). She had faith in him when no one else did. This faith enabled him to press forward to his goals.

I was a quiet child. I didn't talk if I didn't have to. Mom never made me talk. She'd talk to me instead. I always responded with a nod or shake of my head, and she understood. She seemed to take an interest in my drawings, as dark as they were. Maybe it was because I was so unskilled then that what I tried to draw looked like something else entirely. Either way, I loved her through the four years that I knew her.

Mom always put herself below others. She never wanted to cause pain or suffering. She decided that getting rid of herself was the key.

At this time, Mom was feeling used by Dad. It seemed he only wanted two children that he could leave up to her to take care of and soon to be left alone. She expected him to be as he appeared in high skool: amazing and wonderful. She thought she knew who he was on the inside, and it turned out that she was wrong. Instead, he was an extremely busy scientist whose invention's made him famous. When he was interviewed, he never mentioned his family once. No one knew he had a wife and two kids who he had left alone ninety-eight percent of the time.

 Mom was not receiving the love she deserved from him. Dad was too sucked up into his work. He was obsessed with science, even more so than Dib with the paranormal. Science enslaved his body so much that everything in his life didn't matter so much anymore-- including his family.

 He thought I was cute and he paid more attention to me than anyone else; that lasted about five minutes each day. He seemed annoyed that Dib was so interested in the paranormal and preferred Dib was more like him. (That would be a nightmare)

Mom soon caught on to Dad's intentions. She came to the conclusion that Dad didn't really love her at all, and he married her just because she was the first woman who ever had interest in him. Dib and I never found out if this was true or not. When Mom decided that was the truth, she became very upset and depressed. Dib and I could not tell why she was so down at the time. We tried to cheer her up, but she only forced a weak smile and hugged us. Nothing seemed to change how she was feeling.

Dib told me he used to hear Mom cry at night. He never had the chance to ask her why when she was alive. I never heard her, though, most likely because I was such a heavy sleeper. Not even a bomb could wake me up then.

One night, I woke up feeling dehydrated. I jumped out of my bed and headed out of my room. It was around two o'clock PM, almost time for Dad to come home from work. I went downstairs quietly and slipped into the kitchen. I regretted this immediately.

As I looked ahead of me, I saw my mother holding a steak knife disturbingly close to her stomach. My mind was racing and wondering what she was planning to do with what she told me was dangerous. I froze, not knowing what to do or say. I remember her shaking and sweating. She looked up and down, but never to the side where I stood in shock, not able to take my eyes off her.

"For you, Membrane," she spoke as she closed her eyes and pressed the knife into her slender body. I watched in horror as she turned and opened her eyes. There, she saw me; eyes wide open in shock and fear. Tears rolled down her face as she whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry…" Blood seeped through her shirt.

Before she breathed her last, she said to me a jumble of nonsensical words: "Br-igh-and-ec-nd-oar." And with that she fell and closed her eyes.

I knew I would never see my Mom alive again. I knew I'd never be able to hear her sweet, soothing voice one more time. I'd never have someone to talk to, to openly express myself to.

I started crying.

I threw myself on the ground and started pounding on the floor, screaming wildly. My mother was gone forever. Why had she done this to me? Why did she leave me? Didn't she know how much I needed and cared about her? I heard footsteps running down the stairs.

Dib ran into the kitchen, frantically asked me what was wrong, and tried to understand my words lost in the sound of my weeping. I pointed to the kitchen. Dib hesitantly walked inside and as he nervously directed his eyes towards the refrigerator and saw the bloody mess that was the remains of our mother, he backed up and fell over. He was weighed down by his own screams.

He gathered the strength to reach the phone and dialed the number Mom had always told us to call when there was an emergency: 9-1-1. He tried his best to tell the operator everything needed for them to get to our house as soon as possible.

As we waited, he hugged me and told me that somehow, everything would be okay. I kept crying and yelling, but he kept holding me. We cried together for about five minutes until they reached our house. A half an hour later, the media swarmed our house. The police wouldn't let them reach the sidewalk so they wouldn't ruin evidence and disturb Dib and me.

An investigator politely interrogated us about the situation. He was kind to us, and didn't force us to say anything we didn't want to. I didn't speak at all, no matter what he asked me. I didn't even look him in the eye. I was too troubled about the previous disaster that I couldn't concentrate on anything else.

Dad soon reached our house and was shocked at how many people were surrounding our house. As he tried to step into our driveway, a cop stopped him. "Sorry, Professor, but no science is required, needed, or involved in this situation. You can go home; we have it all taken care of."

"But this _is _my house!" Dad argued, infuriated that he could not easily get into his own home.

"Wow, it is?"

"Yes!"

"Well, then, we'll just bring the children outside to see if you really live here, just for confirmation," the policeman said. "Richard, could you bring the kids outside for a second?"

The investigator brought us outside to see our father. "Is this your dad?" the cop asked. Dib nodded his head and spoke a quiet, "Yes." I remained silent and kept my head down.

"This one here is in quite a lot of shock," Richard informed my dad as he gestured to me. "According to what little Dib, here, says, she just witnessed her mother's suicide."

Dad gasped.

The next day, Dad told us he would take a few weeks off and try to be a better parent to us during this hard time. Yet when he said he would take a few weeks off, he wasn't that literal. He actually worked from home, which meant he would be in his basement lab most of the time.

The bad thing was that Dad wasn't around enough to notice that I wasn't eating. I didn't feel like eating after I saw my mom kill herself. I felt nauseated and threw up what acids remained in my body. Dib tried to get me to eat, but I would refuse and kick him. He told me that I could end up like Mom if I didn't have enough food in my body.

Dib told Dad, and he FINALLY noticed how skinny I was for a four year old. For once, he actually freaked out about his kid. Dad and Dib tried to coax me to eat. It took awhile, but finally I started eating little by little and regained my normal weight.

Dad left for normal work again soon and left us to take care of the house and each other. We were too young to take care of a house and cook food. Dad didn't notice this until Dib almost burned the house down while trying to cook beans. From then on, Dad made sure there were pre-made foods in the pantry and refrigerator. He also made sure there were clean clothes in our closets and drawers everyday so we wouldn't have to worry about laundry. Something he invented took care of that.

When I just turned six and Dib was seven, I began to wonder about what Mom meant when she spoke her last phrase. I tried so hard to put the sounds together, but nothing made sense. I was about to consider giving up when I asked Dib if he could help. He was really smart for his age, so smart people teased him about it. Dib spent about a month and a half trying to decipher what Mom said until he finally figured it out.

"It's either brown light in Ecuador or brown nightstand second drawer," Dib told me. "I think it's the latter, though."

Suddenly it hit me. In Mom and Dad's room there was a brown nightstand with three drawers. I ran upstairs and jerked open the second drawer. Inside was a skull necklace. I picked it up and stroked it carefully. I put it around my neck and never took it off except when I slept.

As the years passed, I became angrier with everyone I passed and knew. I even became mean to my own brother, not sibling-cat-fights-mean, but violent mean. Yeah, I kicked him and punched him when he ticked me off. When you have to learn to survive on your own with your brother because your mother killed herself, it does something to you.

I never did like people, and I never wanted them near me either. The human race annoys me. I dressed dark and "gothic" as some call it so no one would mess with me. Of course they stare sometimes, but I can make the darkest expressions that drive people insane. It never worked on Dib very well, for some reason.

But to say that Mom's death didn't affect Dib at all would be a big fat lie.  

I never thought I'd say this, but….

Boy, do I miss him…


	3. Regret

A/N: I actually finished a chapter in less than two months! Plus, it's the longest chapter I've ever written! I'm afraid this might be a little sappy/cheesy. Hopefully it isn't to whoever reads this. Here's the fic!

Even when Mom was around, Dib didn't get along quite so well with other kids. The kids at his preschool and kindergarten classes always made fun of him because he told them that aliens and ghosts existed. They didn't believe him because he didn't have any proof of what he told them at the time.

Dib always told Mom when things like that happened at skool, and she'd comfort him and tell him that she was there for him. But when Mom died, he had no one to talk to. Dad was too busy with work while I just didn't want to listen to him. I just wanted to be left alone so I could play video games—perhaps the most intelligent decision the human race ever made was making those.

If he couldn't talk to anyone, Dib decided to just talk to himself—aloud. This got really annoying at times, especially when I was at the last level of a game I had been working to beat for a month. But, no matter what anyone would say or do to him, he would just keep talking to himself. It wasn't ALL the time; thank God, but just when he needed to think things out.

Dib was unusually perseverant. And I mean REALLY perseverant. He wouldn't give up on something until he found the answer to it or solved it or whatever. He never gave up on looking for paranormal creatures, and he found them, but he never was able to prove it to anyone, ever. The evidence he collected seemed good enough for me, but for the rest of the ignorant world, it wasn't. Maybe they'd just rather make fun of him? I don't know.

He never made any friends because of what he believed in, and sat with me at lunch every single day when we both got into elementary skool. He'd rant on and on about things I didn't care about while I'd play my Game Slave and filter out what he was saying. Sometimes I'd listen to parts of what he was saying and make a rude remark. He seemed oblivious to the point I was trying to get across. He just wouldn't understand the words "Shut up" or "I don't care."

Boys.

When Dib was in sixth grade, and I was in fifth, ZIM showed up.

ZIM is a green alien from a planet called Irk. He is supposedly sent by his leaders to conquer Earth. I really don't see how they could send _him _of all Irkens; he's such an idiot. If ZIM's the best the Irkens have for invading like he says he is, well, his race must be pretty stupid and unskilled.

Dib knew all about ZIM's intentions before he even got here. Dib had listened to the whole ceremony thing that proved that an alien was going to try to take over the earth by using something he ordered from _Crop Circles Magazine_. He got so excited that day, and I didn't even think of believing him. No one did.

It turned out Dib was right. ZIM came into Dib's class one day with a pitifully obvious disguise. For some reason, the rest of the human race was so ignorant that they couldn't tell ZIM was an alien. He had no ears, for Heaven's sake! Not to mention his deformed green skin…

Ever since then, Dib and ZIM were fighting each other and stopping each other's plans. Dib seemed like he had fun fighting the alien and ruining his plans. He was continually frustrated at how no one could see through ZIM's disguise. I would be too, I guess.

Yet Dib's social life never really improved. He never had any friends, not even one. _Everyone_ was mean to him and treated him like dirt. I was too, but I wasn't kind to anyone. Every single day he was made fun of and mocked. In elementary skool, they would verbally hurt him, but in junior high and high skool, they were a little more violent.

The kids would slam Dib into lockers, shove him in a trash can and roll him down a hill, throw him in a dumpster, steal his glasses, or just plain beat him up. Dib would come home with bruises on his legs, arms—practically everywhere. He even got a few black eyes. I knew some of that stuff was happening and I even saw some of it, but I never showed that I cared about it. I mean, I never did anything to stop it, even though I very well could have. I have such a frightening reputation at skool that no one will even dare to insult me. I'm sure I could have defended Dib so no one would hurt him again, but did I do it? Nope.

I hate myself for that.

It was kind of weird that Dad didn't even notice Dib was having problems at skool, with all the scratches and bruises on his body. Then again, Dad doesn't notice much outside his "scientist life."

It really didn't help that Dib was so scrawny. He was the ideal person to pick on because aside from being "weird," he also wasn't strong enough to defend himself against the jocks that beat up on him. He didn't have much strength in his arms and certainly not enough to shield himself.

Why do none of the girls pick on me? Well, they sure talk about me enough. I hear them. It's kind of funny who they think I am. According to the preppy popular girls, I'm a satanic girl that was born on Halloween and was raised on eating live kittens' heads.

Yeah, right.

At least they leave me alone.

Anyway, none of the girls picked on me because a couple years ago, a snobby popular girl named Jessica made some kind of rude comment about me not having a Mom and I jumped on her and started punching her as hard as I could. I beat her up so bad that she almost had to go to the hospital. I got in big trouble for that, but hey, no one bothers me anymore.

Of course, ZIM and Dib fought, but never as violently as the kids at skool. Their fighting was more verbal than physical. Actually, ZIM was the closest to a friend Dib ever had, even though they hated each other.

Sadly, Dib began to dwell on how much he wasn't needed. I noticed a change in his personality all of a sudden when he was fifteen. He didn't talk as much—which was a scary thing, because he always talks—, he didn't bother me at all, and he wasn't obsessing over seeing ZIM on an autopsy table.

I sensed something was wrong, but I didn't really think about it that much. It's not like I didn't care, but my mind was on other things.

I must have inherited oblivion from Dad.

How could I not have seen this coming?! What was wrong with me?! I should've recognized the symptoms, but, no! I HAD to not notice.

One day, after me and Dib had come home from skool, Dib had gone to his room right away, while I stayed and played video games downstairs. I played for an hour or two, until I began to wonder where the heck Dib was. He never stayed in his room that long... He usually came downstairs for _something_.

"Hey! Dib! Get down here!" I yelled, snappily.

No response.

"Hello! Dib!" I called, but he still didn't answer. "You better come down here or I'll—"

I admit it, I was concerned. I knew something was wrong.

I raced upstairs and burst open Dib's room door. What I saw next almost made me collapse with shock.

My brother was sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, with pill bottles all around him.

_Dib tried to kill himself!_

I started crying, wondering how he could do this to me, and why he did it. I quickly grabbed the phone, called 9-1-1 and told the operator that my brother had tried to kill himself with pills, and the ambulance was here right away.

Thankfully, he was still alive by the time they got him to the hospital. I went with him, but of course, I couldn't stay in the room. I waited outside the hospital room impatiently. I heard footsteps coming from down the hall and, assuming it was a nurse, I tried to keep my face down.

But it wasn't a nurse.

It was my dad.

And he was worried.

Dad saw me, and immediately burst into tears.

My dad was _crying._

I had never seen him cry before. It was disturbing. I looked up at him, then down at my feet again. Then, he hugged me.

Dad hasn't hugged me since—since forever, practically.

I didn't feel like hugging him back. I was angry at him. I realized how much he helped my life become a nightmare. Of course he didn't know it, but still. Tears of anger flowed down my face.

Dad let go of me and said, "I'm sorry, honey."

I snapped. "Sorry? SORRY?! Do you think SORRY makes it any better?! My life has been so horrible because of YOU! Mom killed herself because she thought YOU didn't love her, because YOU hardly ever talked to her! She loved YOU! But YOU acted like YOU didn't care! That's why she's dead now! Dib tried to kill himself because no one supported him! YOU could have, but, NO, YOU didn't care!"

Dad looked nervous and hurt. "I…um…Gaz…"

I didn't care. "I hate you," I whispered harshly as I gave him the darkest, coldest look I could.

Dad left to the bathroom. I was so full of hurt and anger, that I lashed out on my dad and I didn't even care. I hurt his feelings, but I didn't care. He deserved it.

God, I felt so screwed up.

When Dad came back, a nurse came out and whispered something to him so I wouldn't hear, but I heard all right.

"I don't think he's going to make it, Professor," the nurse said sadly. "His body absorbed too much of the medication. He's conscious now, so if you or your daughter would like to see him, now is the time."

My brother was _going to die._

"I want to see him," I said, as I stood up and went inside Dib's room.

In a mix of tubes and other medical things, was my brother. Dib looked so horrible. He was more pale than usual and he looked extremely exhausted.

He saw me, and apologized. "I'm…I'm sorry, Gaz," he began hoarsely.

I interrupted him in the kindest voice I could. "No, don't tell me that." I went up next to him and smiled.

Then I turned more serious, but not harsh. "Why did you do it?"

Dib looked kind of uncomfortable. "Because I couldn't handle being beat up everyday. I hated the-the fact that everyone hated me and wanted me to die. I had nothing to live for," he said softly. He looked so ill…

"What about ZIM? What about me?" I asked, hoping I wouldn't upset him.

Dib paused and took a deep breath. "ZIM isn't going anywhere," he assured me. "You—I didn't think you cared."

So, part of this was MY fault. Great.

"What's ZIM going to do without you around? He can't do anything if you're not there to stop him. Remember when you dropped your paranormal investigating to be a scientist like Dad? Without you to stop him he had no motivation," I reminded him. "And I—I've always cared about you. I just have a weird way of showing it." He started to laugh a little.

"Well, he won't be taking over Earth now, will he?" Dib said. "I'm sorry… I didn't think you really understood me."

"Dib, if anyone could understand you, it would be me," I guaranteed him. "I was the one listening to you twenty-four seven!"

"You listened?"

"Of course I did!" I exclaimed. "I mean, what else could I have done? I didn't catch everything, but most of your ranting I heard."

"Oh."

Silence.

I grabbed his hand. "Dib, I love you. I know this is kind of awkward since no one's said this to you before. I really don't want you to go…" I found it hard to not make him feel bad. I've never really been nice to anyone before, so I found this quite hard.

"I-I-love you too."

I couldn't help but cry. Gosh, here I was, being unnaturally nice to my dying brother, and in tears.

I noticed it was getting harder and harder for Dib to breathe and talk, so I decided to end our conversation and let him be.

"Say hi to Mom for me, okay?" I said as I stood up.

"I will." Dib smiled weakly.

As I headed to the door, a bunch of doctors and nurses rushed in. "Bye," I whispered, knowing he couldn't hear me.

I exited the room in tears and glanced at my Dad. I stood waiting outside until the same nurse came out and told us Dib passed away.

My brother was dead.

I started crying once again, this time practically hysterically. I wouldn't let anyone touch me or try to comfort me. I just wanted to be alone and cry, so I ran to the bathroom.

I felt angry again. I was angry at Mom, Dad, and Dib. Why did they do this to me?! Why did Mom think that we were better off without her? Why did Dad think that we were okay with him working full-time and never being able to see us? But there was no "us" anymore. Just _me_. Why did Dib have to kill himself like that? Why did they have to leave me all alone?

The next few days were really hard for me. I skipped skool to calm myself down. I spent a lot of time in Dib's room, looking at his stuff. At least part of him was still there.

Even my Game Slave didn't seem to entertain me. I felt so helpless and alone. I felt no one could ease the pain I was feeling. The only thing people did for me was make my pain worse.

And just as I had expected, Dad returned to work. He started to work MORE than usual! What a jerk.

One of those days, someone rang the doorbell. I hesitantly got up to answer it.

It was ZIM.

"Look, ZIM," I said. "I really don't have time for your—"

"Where is the Dib?" he interrupted. "Not that I'm concerned, but he hasn't been spying on my base as usual. What's he up to? Is he planning something?"

I guess the news hadn't made its way to him yet. "He's not up to anything, and he'll never ever be," I reported, but ZIM didn't seem to understand.

"He's using you, isn't he?!" ZIM pointed his finger at me, and I smacked it away.

"No, ZIM, he isn't."

ZIM looked really confused. I decided to just tell him the straight out truth.

"He's dead."

"Eh?" ZIM scratched his head. "Dead? How?" I know he was trying to act like he didn't care, but there was something inside him that looked disappointed.

"He killed himself a few days ago. I found him in his room too late for the doctors to do anything about it. Happy now?!" I slammed the door.

"See, Dib? People DID care about you. You just couldn't see…" I spoke aloud to a no-longer-existing Dib. The house was way too quiet and lonely without him.

Dib's absence bugged me mostly at night. I would try and try to go to sleep, but scenes of my mother's suicide and Dib's attempt replayed in my head over and over again, and it kept me from falling asleep. The few times I did get to sleep, haunting nightmares about Dib and Mom filled my dreams.

When I finally was able to return to skool, everyone was talking about Dib. This made me extremely uncomfortable. Some felt really bad, while others acted like they didn't care. Some even seemed glad he was gone. (This made me thoroughly ticked off)

At lunch, I had to sit by myself. I didn't feel like eating much, so I played my Game Slave—or at least tried to. While I was playing, a girl that I recognized was in Dib's grade came up to me. I think her name was Gretchen or something. She had magenta-ish hair and used to have a gigantic overbite. The braces she had awhile ago made her teeth better, but not perfect.

"I'm sorry about your brother," she said sympathetically, but I didn't respond. I didn't even want to be having this conversation. If she made me cry in skool, I was going to hurt her.

"He was a really nice guy. I barely talked to him, but I noticed that he was never mean to anybody, with the exception of ZIM, and all."

Yeah, and her point was…?

"The truth is," she paused, and I didn't dare look up to face her. How I wished she'd go away!

"I liked Dib. I like _liked _him. I've liked him ever since elementary skool." I paused my game, but I still didn't acknowledge her presence. I noticed she was feeling a little nervous about talking to

"I am very upset that he died. I really regretted never telling him how I felt about him. I cried a lot the day I found out he committed suicide," she explained, as I winced. I became furious at what she was saying.

But she continued. "Once again, I'm very sorry and I hope everything will be okay."

Once again, I let my temper get the best of me. "Well, maybe everything would be 'okay' if you had just told Dib that you cared about him!" I nearly yelled. "That's why he killed himself, you know, because he felt no one cared about him!" I stomped off and left this Gretchen girl. When I looked back I saw tears welling up in her eyes.

And for the first time in my life, I think my conscience worked on time.


	4. Desistance

_A/N: This is the final chapter of this fanfiction. Don't get your hopes up for a happy ending; there isn't much of one. I'll shut up now so you can read the chapter. _

**"Did you forget about the things I said? Fight the lies inside your head. Deny those who try to bring you down. Kill the pain and emptiness. Find a love and lose yourself. Without this life you're just a memory locked inside again."**

**-"Photograph" by 12 Stones **

I can't stand it anymore! Not only do I have images of suicides repeating in my head, but the media is also ready to bombard me at any chance they get. I hate the media—perhaps even more than my dad.

The thing about the media is that they will not listen to you, no matter what you say. If you tell them to go away and never come near you again, they will come closer and bother you even more!

At least I can reside in my safe home. I can't even go to skool anymore! I kind of like that, but it is hard to be alone all day. I'm still not used to being somewhere without Dib's annoying voice tagging along.

Why is the media trying to stalk me, you ask?

It's all because of my stupid dad.

You see, when I yelled at him in the hospital, Dad took it kind of hard, and he felt that he needed to tell this to someone for support or something. Dad also happened to tell this person that he felt that he wasn't a good father, because he only sees us once a month at a minimum.

It turns out, this certain person alerted the government, along with the media. Since Dad is a famous scientist, whatever he does practically everyone knows. Well, they knew everything except how he treated his kids. Luckily for me, I might have to be fostered.

I'm fourteen years old and I have been living the same way for all of my life. Then, my brother kills himself, and NOW I have to be fostered?

I don't want to be fostered. I am NOT moving in with some happy, giddy family that just wants to foster me for fame. I will find someway to get out of this mess, even if it means running away. Dad wouldn't notice I was gone for about a month, I bet.

Where would I go if I ran away? Is there any place that I could go? Probably not, but I'm a smart girl; I'll find something.

If only Dib were here… He'd think of something to get me out of this! I guess if Dib were actually alive, none of this would have ever happened.

After Dib died, I spent a lot of time thinking about our last conversation. I remembered it so well it was like I was reliving that exact moment.

But then, one thing he said hit me.

_"You—I didn't think you cared." _

I failed to realize exactly what he meant when Dib said that to me, but as I thought about it more, I began to understand.

_I_ was part of the reason Dib killed himself. _Me._

I was never really kind to him, now that I think about it. I showed no evidence that I cared about him. Dib had a reason for thinking that I hated him, even though I didn't.

How _could_ I hate him? He was my brother, after all.

But wasn't suicide too extreme? Was that really the way Dib could have taken care of his problems? To him it was, apparently.

If only I could have been just a little bit nicer. If only Dad cared more about Dib and I than his career.

Dad is now becoming notorious to some people. Yeah, it's true; some people hate him so much they want him to be punished. He deserves to be hated. Everyone knows about me and what happened to Dib now, so whenever the news comes on, people watching will say, "Aww, poor Gaz…"

I REALLY do not like and/or want to be pitied. At least no one knocks at my door just to feel sorry for me and give me some stupid gift.

Thank God I'm not stupid enough to think that Mom's suicide was my fault. If I was, I would be in even bigger trouble than I am now.

Can life be kind enough to give me something to hold on to? Can it give me _someone_ to hold on to? Can it give me anything good?!

"I will not give up!" I shout in my room, looking in no particular direction. "I will be strong. I AM strong. Your pitiful attempts to make me lose this battle are stupid!" I feel no power in these words and sigh.

I feel so indescribably helpless and alone. Pain grips my soul like a child holding onto a teddy bear in a thunderstorm. I begin to wonder how on Earth I am going to survive like this.

I only know one thing:

I will not give up.

I sometimes ponder about what Mom and Dib were thinking when they killed themselves. Did they think of me? Did they?! Did they just think about themselves like the rest of this pathetic world? What about me?

Did they forget that I have feelings too? That I needed them?

Then again, did I show it?

If anyone saw me like this, they would be really surprised. I am not the Gaz I appear to be. I am not heartless and independent. I am a pathetic girl who is currently wallowing in her self pity.

I sadly reminisce the times that I could have changed all of this. Dib didn't really need for me to make his days worse by insulting him or hurting him. Why didn't I give him a break?

I realize that I have been what I never wanted to be all along.

I am also self-centered.

I suppose this is something that is present in every human being. This trait is the key to destruction of one's self, or someone else.

I cared so much about how I was feeling that I was blind to the fact that Dib was actually _in pain. _I question how I did not notice this.

Every time I see a knife or a bottle of pills I stop and gaze at it. I can feel them luring me closer, calling my name… I defy them and walk the other direction. Heck, I refuse to even use them at all. I tear food instead of cut and when I feel sick I deal with it.

I decide to spend a few minutes in Dib's room. Even though it may seem kind of rude, I like looking through his stuff. It makes me feel better because all of him is in his room, though his actual body is not.

As I step in, I look at all the posters on his wall. One is a "Mysterious Mysteries" poster. Another has something to do with a giant mug. I notice that his laptop is on. It was on when Dib killed himself, and I haven't touched it since. I decide that this is the time to look at it.

I hesitantly walk over and sit in his chair. Leaning, back, I wiggle the mouse on his laptop. The screen slowly appears and reveals his journal he keeps on his computer. I wonder why he never exited out of it, so I begin to read it. Now, when Dib's dead, my little sister instinct has kicked in. Interesting timing.

_March 31, 2001___

_ Today, this alien named ZIM came into our class. No one believes me—as usual. He seems really stupid, but as a paranormal investigator I must be prepared for anything…_

I decide to skip forward to a more recent entry.

_January 4, 2004___

_Today was probably one of the worst days of my life. This guy at my skool named Torque beat me up today. My arms and legs are really sore, and I have this gigantic bruise on my side. I really hated it when everyone was laughing at me. I wonder how some people can be that cruel. Why people enjoy seeing pain in others confuses me. _

_I guess I like seeing ZIM get hurt, but that's a different story._

_I mean, even Gaz—_

I stop reading to spare myself from even more guilt. I scroll down until I see the actual date that Dib committed suicide.

_April 16, 2004___

_ Hi, Gaz. _

Woah. He KNEW I was going to look at his journal.

_I'm sorry it has to end this way. I just can't take life anymore. I can't handle being hurt EVERY SINGLE DAY. I figure this is the only way to escape. _

_I don't mean to hurt you, but…_

Nice job avoiding that.

_…no one really cares about me. _

Yeah, no matter what that Gretchen girl or I said.

_I'm not trying to get you to feel bad for me, not that you would, or anything, but, anyway, I am once again sorry that you have to witness two suicides in your lifetime. This must tear you apart. I think this is the best thing for me, so you're going to have to trust me. _

_I know I may sound like a hypocrite, but I want you to live through life. I don't want you to give up like Mom and I. _

How about _you_? It was just as hard for me too—well, maybe your life was a bit harder, with everyone injuring you and all. I mean, couldn't you have held on, too?

_I know it is going to be really hard, but you are strong, Gaz. I've known you all of my life so I have to know what you can handle and what you can't. _

_Oh, yeah, and don't worry about ZIM._

Heh. He still thought I was concerned about stupid ZIM conquering Earth. ZIM's too incompetent to do something as complicated as taking over a planet as dumb as Earth.

_I know him well enough to understand that without competition, he has nothing to motivate himself with. _

_Anyway, I hope you listened (or rather read) what I said and I wish you the best of luck._

_Love, _

_Dib_

I read through Dib's letter a second time—without the sarcastic comments—and I try to make sense of what he said. Dib's words gave me courage and hope. What really amazes me is the fact that he believed in me when I never showed any faith in him.

I can't understand why he's been so nice to me through these years when I was a total jerk. Sure, we always had those occasional sibling quarrels, but overall, he's never really done anything mean or rude to me, even though I'd go out of my way to make him pay for some kind of food he ate that I wanted.

It's weird how Dib never ended up like me after being around me so much. He just kind of let me do whatever I wanted to him. He could never defend himself because he was a wimp.

Though I am still slightly angry at him for making such a dim-witted choice as suicide, I feel a lot better. Even though he displays hypocrisy in his letter, I promise to try and do what he says.

Though I am alone, I will conquer my fears, and win this "tug-of-war" between life and death.

If only I could see what lies ahead…

END

_A/N: I warned you that it would have a sucky ending! Do not fret, for I will most likely make a sequel. I just need to come up with a plot._

_Anyway, the point that I was trying to make by writing this was that suicide is the worst way to get out of your problems. Not only do you end your life, but you also hurt everyone that cared about you, even someone you don't know. The most unlikely person can care about you without you even knowing. As Ashsema pointed out, suicide is a selfish and cowardice way out of your problems. Surviving life is what makes you worth something._

_I hope you didn't take this fanfic as an encouragement to commit suicide, because in no way was I trying to promote that. _

_Review if you wish!_

__


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